sleepless on Christmas

I have resolved to walk to work as a sacrifice for Thomas Michael. It is about a mile and a half one way, so it will be three miles a day. Now I am regularly working six days a week, so it will be three miles six days a week which will be 18 mile a week, so in ten weeks I will have walked 180 miles. In 20 weeks I will have walked 360 miles. In 28 weeks I will have walked 504 miles which is just about what Mom walked across Northern Spain on El Camino de Compostela de Santiago. It took her about 8 weeks at 80 years old.

Sunday morning from midnight until 7.00 my body felt very run down, but I have recovered. Yesterday I walked and jogged to work because I was up all day until about 7.00. I arose at about 21.75 and got to work by 22.61, .11 late.

I have played chess with Misha, my daughter Katie's boyfriend. We played four-way chess on Christmas day. It has been a lovely Christmas besides the lack of sleep. I made it to Mass on Christmas day at 9.50.

I will get some sleep early today and get my mind back into my spiritual journey.

Let us sow while we can

So Thomas Michael had a bad fall. There is internal bleeding. He will be flown to Philadelphia for possible surgery (which was scheduled on January 2nd). God bless him. Pray for him. Pray for him.
This family of six is looking death in the face, but there is hope. God bless them all. God help them in this difficult time. In my family in 1964, my family of six met death when my father was killed in a car accident. I am just now recovering from that trauma. I did not handle the death of my father well. I could not handle it at 14. Now I am facing it, again, as a 57 year old. I realize that I have to handle the loss of my father, though I am not handling it face on yet. Still my heart is feeling the tremors. With Thomas Michael squarely facing death, I am brought more fully before death. Now all I can do for his family is make myself available. I have little to say. I just hope that I can listen and be there, if they need me, want me.
How fragile and temporary life on earth is. May we pray for God's help all the days of our lives.

Giving the heart

I am learning about love in a family. Friends of mine are dealing with a brain tumor of their 42 year old, youngest son, Thoams Michael. His three siblings have gathered around to support him. His parents are there, as parents should be to support their children. His wife and two children are there.
I realize in my own case that I did not know how to protect my own four children. I had been in a boarding school in eighth grade in Africa, then a four year boarding school outside of Philadelphia within four months of my father's death. It was not a good thing, but I accepted it and dealt with it. I lost my desire to learn and I just survived. Oh, the premium on institutionalized education is far too great. I needed my family. I needed love, not facts.
I wanted my own children at home. I was able to home school them through sixth grade--we did have help in the beginning from a very caring woman, Mary C., who was meticulous in her preparation. Anyway, I liked the atmosphere and the way the kids learned from each other, but as the kids neared 14, the age at which I had lost my father to a car accident I struggle. I had no ground to stand on and I let my children out into the wild, as I had been. My wife was much more protective of them. She nurtured them more than I could. I guess that I did not know that my role was to protect. I did not know how to do it. I had never protected anyone before and I had had a lack of protection, and, probably, felt that I did not need it. Now, unfortunately, I could not give it.
Now I sit here wondering if my scarred heart will shed its scales and let out the tears and if I will be able to be truly there for those whom I love and have a chance to help. All four of my children will be home for Christmas. I hope that I can give them me and not an image or a shell with little content. This is a matter of the heart. This is a matter of caring and loving. I have not done a good job as a father, though I made a point of being around, a lot. I, still, could not get my heart around anyone. I was too scared, too scarred, too beaten from tending to my mere survival that I had no heart to give.
Now I hope to open up for my friends. I will offer prayers and make sacrifices for the recovery of the youngest son and, perhaps, God will work on this oldest son. Oh God is always working in so many directions. No issue is small and all issues include love which He wants us all to have. Laus tibi Christe.

Italian joys

I have watched 'Il Postino' many times over the last month. I could have, should have, watched it much more, but it is a blessing. Oh, the power of poetry. Oh, the joy of love. The back of the tape (which I bought in a Video King, which is moving, for 3.99) has the most devastating written review on the back. It calls the movie a comedy in which the postino use word tricks to gain the hand of the most beautiful woman on the island. No, he uses poetry to win her hand and the poetry allows him to see his island as he never has before. and beautiful women need love as much as plodding men. It may be a comedy in the sense that the hero wins the woman, but it could be a tragedy because the hero is killed before he could read his poetry at a political rally.
Anyway, I love this movie. It is so interesting the way il postino's attitude towards Neruda changes and how he usurps Neruda's poetry for his own without shame. He claims, in a discussion with Neruda, that poetry belongs to the one who needs it. Neruda doesn't push, but looks amazed and just says, 'How democratic of you.' This movie shows the power of poetry, of art. As a poet wrote:

It is difficult
To get the news from poems,
But men die miserably
Every day for lack
Of what is found there.

Something like that.
For our Italian club we were going to sing 'Tu Scendi dalle Stelle...', but the snow stopped the festivities scheduled for today. I have almost memorized the first two stanzas. It is a beautiful song by St. Alphonsus Di Liguori. Oh, the power of love:

Quanto questa poverta piu m'innamora:
Giacche ti fece amor povero ancora.

St. Alphonsus' Stations of the Cross have the same powerful, simple love in them.
I may never learn Italian, so never be able to read Dante in the original, but I will try. In Italian club on Tuesday digo: 'Mi chiamo Dante Aligheri.' Signore wanted me to be Dante, so I played along. (I felt like il postino when I said it. I tried to say Dante's name as he said it in the movie.) I probably couldn't have done this last year, but this year I don't mind pressure or taking an impossible position. I am ready to give what I have and love doing it. Arrividecci, A dios,

Feast of the Most Holy Rosary

Holy Mother help all Catholics to use this great gift of you Holy Rosary for the spiritual growth of souls and for the salvation of souls.
Today there was a banner by the Sanctuary with a quote from Mother Teresa which said that a country that accepts abortion is the poorest of the poor. Lord, if it is Thy Will, I would like to help the unborn and the institution of marriage. I just read about Eleanor Rude who spent her last years serving the unborn and their mothers on Dawn Eden's blog. Falling Sparrow said that she just died. Bless her and her example.
I am elated that I got a comment on this blog. It is fitting that it is from a Portuguese speaker because I have a sister-in-law who married an Azorean and lives in the Azores with her family and a brother-in-law who married a Portuguese lady and lives in the Azores with two children.
I am attempting to learn Espaniol (I have two daughters who are fluent in Spanish.) as preparation for learning Italian so that I can read Dante, but I will add Portuguese to my list. I may fail in all three goals, but I can and will appreciate the speakers of all three languages with a greater love.
Thank you, mi amigo, from Brazil, the Azores or Portugal. You have blessed me. Now I have an audience and a reason to try to be more consistent (and to learn Portuguese).